


you shine like the glory that once was mine

by Catherines_Collections



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Demon Hierarchy, Gen, Nostalgia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 10:44:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12725106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catherines_Collections/pseuds/Catherines_Collections
Summary: She doesn’t like to think about it, how much her master gave up. If he even knows what he has given up, and what he cannot return to. She wonders if he spares a thought for what he stole from her, the gold that shone so much brighter in the other realm, and the glory she would receive from bathing herself in the blood of her winnings.It is unfair of her to think these things, she knows. For her master is who gives, and he is who takes away: it is law.





	you shine like the glory that once was mine

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: Maz still enjoys catching criminals on Earth.
> 
> I own nothing, enjoy!

She used to brag about them once, her kills and captures: her winnings.  


She would spend days hunting, stalking, preying on anything she thought her lord would admire her for, and she took pride in it. In the capture, in the game.

But the best part of it, she remembers, was the glory she would almost seem to drown in.  
  
The fire burning against her skin would seem to cool in light of her master’s praise- a sharp smile, dark eyes, and an increase in rank every time she beat her own records, until she became his most awarded warrior, most trusted advisor.

She remembers how he pulled her close and the red splattered across her skin was vibrant and reflective in his own eyes, and she would close her eyes as his breath blew over her ear, soaking all of it in.  


  


The glory, the blood, the absence of the fire burning against her skin and strain in her muscles every time she practiced.  


  


She would brag, of course. As every underworld creature did about their spoils and favor with their lord. She would laugh, drinks in hand and hungry gazes always watching, and it would feel like she was drowning in something other than fire for a change.  


  
Drowning in something my than just glory or bloodshed. It was her legacy, she finally realized, and thinking about it now, she realizes that is all the underworld will ever know of her.  
  
Not the lower-class demon that came before and fought her way up, not the demon she is now: still fighting and serving her lord, in the moral realm no less. No magic, no fire, no glory- no careless act left to spare.  
  
There is still blood, however. And she does continue her legacy, when her master is taken care of.  
  
She captures all of the criminals Chloe does not: the ones she hides, the ones she misses, the ones she can’t catch herself.  
  
Because Maz can. She can find them when no one else can, can hunt and track and kill where no one else knows how. They are next to nothing compared to what she fought and won against to earn her place by her master’s side.  
  
She finds her victims, tracks and hunts, and kills them: not always quick and not always careful but always clean. No mess, no proof. Because while she does not understand this realm’s rules, she knows better than to concern herself too closely with them: whether it be by accident or force.  
  
It’s bloody and gory and as dangerous as she wants to make it, but it’s still not enough and it makes something in her shift at the thought that this will never be the same.  
  
Because it doesn’t feel like drowning in glory anymore. The blood no longer fits her like a finely fitted dress, and the flesh no longer pleases her with its stillness.  
  
Her legacy is gone, dead in many of the eyes of those she is sure have already replaced her, and she didn’t think she would even miss the slight singe constantly pawing at her skin.  
  
She still fights, but for the first time in her life, she’s not sure if it means anything.

.

She doesn’t like to think about it, how much her master gave up. If he even knows what he has given up, and what he cannot return to. She wonders if he spares a thought for what he stole from her, the gold that shone so much brighter in the other realm, and the glory she would receive from bathing herself in the blood of her winnings.

It is unfair of her to think these things, she knows. For her master is who gives, and he is who takes away: it is law.

She hates the supposed temptation drink in this realm and how they never seem to give her the same joy they had when she was below.

Maz doesn’t think about this, not often anyway. But then she sees Chloe as she enters through the side entrance of their bar, sitting beside her master as he throws his head back in a laugh. And she sees light in his eyes where there used to be dark, where there used to be a silent reverence for her and her place beside him, and suddenly every thought she has tried to keep back is rushing through her like fire.

She does not even realize how close she has gotten until her master turns to face her and his knees almost bump her as he turns in his chair.

He has the look on his face where he knows what she is to say even before she does, and the fire she has missed for so long seems to have overtaken her newfound blood and bones because for once she does not care what he thinks of her. Not when he is risking and defiling himself like this: not when he has made her pay for his already too many grievances.

Maz meets his gaze, and for the first time she allows the fire she’s longed for to flow through her blood, and she snarls: “You are not as bright as you were,” twisting her double meaning as a double-edged blade.

She sees Chloe out of the corner of her eye as she raises in eyebrow in confusion, before her master shifts and hides her from view.

Her master laughs, something warm in the wrong way, light too present where she missed the dark, and leans in close enough where she can feel his breath against her lips. “Maybe,” he whispers, quietly enough where he knows Chloe will not hear, because he still spares her a mercy even now, “but neither are you.”

And, perhaps, the words should not burn as much as she lets them. But she feels as though she has been struck. The words twist under her skin and writhe and she wants nothing more than to scream, to say ‘y _ou did this to us! Look what you have reduced us to.’_ But he already knows, and his words cut deeper than any blade that ever struck her.

For the first time since their early arrival, she sees that his eyes are too dark, but not in the way she wishes they were. She swallows the air in her throat, curing lungs and bodies and flesh and fire, and Chloe’s presents is suffocatingly apparent.

So she releases a breath through her nose, raises her chin, bares her teeth, and takes her leave.

What her lord had once given, he now takes away.

The fire burning inside of her is not the one she longed for: it is not the same. Because, she knows now as something heavy settles within her new body and an unknown weight takes place atop her shoulders, none of it will ever be.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated. rhymesofblue on tumblr.


End file.
